This Will Take Some Getting Used To
by Dreaming-Of-A-Nightmare
Summary: A moment from La Vie Boheme as told by Finn, and then a jump to over a year later to see how his opinion differs. .:. Finchel, Kurve. a future!fic oneshot. T for swears.


**A/N: And here's another oneshot as part of the La Vie Boheme series! This time, we delve into the mind of none other than Finn Hudson. ;D**

**This one starts off taking place during chapter eight, and then jumps to about a year-or-so later.**

**Anyway, enjoy this Finnfiction (as my sister calls it; she's a Finn fangirl)! 8D**

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Dad (I've been calling Burt that for the past few years now, since college, and it's surprisingly not that weird) greets my wife and I at the door, smiling about something in particular. I don't think much of it, you know? I just laugh and smile back, answering the standard questions of, "How've ya been?" and "How's the wife and kid?" even though Rachel is right beside me, Christa in her arms, but I know he means relationship wise. Have we gotten on each other's nerves yet? How late does the baby keep me up? Things of that nature. The usual stuff.

But I'm mildly and pleasantly surprised when I see Kurt as well, because all Burt and Carole said was that they were having a guest, and that we should come visit them. I had a feeling it'd be my stepbrother, but I was happy nonetheless.

Rachel hands off our baby to Burt – thankfully Rachel is more careful than I am – and watch as she tackles Kurt, smothering him with love. Their relationship is kinda funny to me. They were like rivals in high school, always wanting all the same solos and, I think at one point, the same man (I shudder a little, because I know it's me), but they ended up becoming really great friends, and now Rachel loves Kurt like a brother (which he technically is, because of her marriage to me and his and my parents' marriage to each other; why is the law so weird?).

Dad comes up to me and starts chatting idly, saying that Kurt's boyfriend is here, and that Kurt's serious about him, so I should be nice. I shrug, because really, I'm over it. I've long since gotten used to Kurt hanging off of a guy's arm. I've seen it about four times now, counting from high school and onward. But Kurt is so picky with who he likes (hence the lack of more boyfriends), so it makes me wonder what kind of person this guy is for Kurt to be serious about him.

"Want to meet him?" Dad says, and I shrug.

"Yeah, okay. Shouldn't we wait for Kurt, though?"

Burt makes a face that I can't place, and it throws me off. He says simply, "It'd be best if you talked a bit with the guy first. Let me tell ya, I wasn't totally accepting myself, so… well. I'll let you be the judge, Finn. I have faith in you. Meanwhile, I gotta to see to dinner!" And he heads for the kitchen.

I enter the living room, and standing there is a guy I at first don't recognize. But once he turns his gaze on me, I know who he is. My eyes instantly narrow, and fiery anger flares up inside of me, churching my insides like a meat grinder. What the _fuck_ is _he_ doing here? Is he here to ridicule Kurt and his new –

I stop dead, my face falling, and insides freezing in place, about to chip off around the edges. No, I realize. David "The Asshole" Karofsky isn't here for ridicule. He _is_ Kurt's new boyfriend.

The shock I feel doesn't last long. It's replaced by even stronger rage, the sort that makes me nearly see red. I take a step forward, and Karofsky eyes me with this look that sickens me, because it doesn't look half as scared as I want it to. Instead, he looks defiant, like he could totally take me on. As if! I'm taller than him, and by the look of him, he's lost some muscle definition and weight, and that gives me the upper hand.

I'm visualizing just punching him square in the jaw when Rachel and Kurt step into the room, Kurt's face washing white as he senses the tension.

Seeing Kurt, Karofsky tries to lighten the mood. "…Hey, Hudson; it's been awhile," he says, still eyeing me like he's ready for a fight, but still trying to make himself sound _polite._ But I can see right through the act. Awful, cruel things go through my head, because this is not happening. This is wrong. And there's just so much pent-up resentment for the guy across the room from me that I don't even know what to _do_ with myself.

"Not long enough in my book!" I toss back, snarling. I take half a step forward.

Rachel nears me. "Finn, honey? What's wrong?" she murmurs softly, and reaches out a hand as if she's trying to calm me, even without touching me. She's too afraid to, because I rarely get this angry, this _damn furious,_ and I don't mean to frighten her – I love her – but I can't help myself. How did this sadistic bastard get into the house? How did Kurt even stand to –?

I grind my teeth, countering sharply in response, "What's _wrong?_ Rachel, don't you _recognize _him? This is _Karofsky!_ They guy who's slushied and insulted us all throughout high school, and who got Kurt to leave! The dumb-jock, meatheaded _bully._" I turn toward Kurt. "How could you get with _him_ of all people, Kurt? What sort of masochist are you?"

I can't believe him. Why would my stepbro do this? Why is he looking at me like I'm crazy? He's the one who decided to date his former bully! It doesn't add up! And part of me has always disliked Karofsky, but ever since that final straw before the wedding, and all of the guilt and shame I felt for myself for not standing up… I've come to hate Dave Karofsky even more. He's become a symbol of everything I have strived not to become, and all that I generally hate, because I love Kurt (like a brother, of course) and I care about him, and people like Karofsky… they just need to stay away from Kurt, and out of _both_ our lives. Because I feel like I need to protect him, since he is slightly younger than me and he is my brother now. This moment is no different.

I'm a little hurt when Kurt suddenly stands between Karofsky and I, gently pushing Rachel out of harm's way. He hisses sassily in that way he does, "Now hold your horses there, Finn. This isn't _that_ Dave anymore. This is a different Dave. He's been nothing but sweet and kind and loving to me ever since we met again, and even though he regresses once or twice with an expression or word or two, he's never hurt me. So you have no right to assume he's still abusive or cruel, because he's _not. _At the time, he was just… part of the crowd, and confused, and misunderstood."

I stare at him, utterly astounded by his speech. How can he think that? Did Karofsky _brainwash him?_ Or worse yet, _take advantage of him_ to the point where Kurt feels obligated to...

I clench my teeth and hurl back with disgust and confusion, "Are you _listening _to yourself, bro? He's got you whipped! You sound like a Stockholm Syndrome case!"

Because he does. It makes no sense, and knowing Karofsky, I can only think the worst.

"As impressed as I am that you're aware what Stockholm Syndrome is, _Finn,_ you've got it all wrong. Now _drop it_ before I –" Kurt retorts, but suddenly Karofsky is _touching_ Kurt, and all I want to do is slap his hand away. He has no right to touch my brother like that, not after all the pain and suffering he put Kurt through during high school.

Karofsky mutters darkly to Kurt, "Kurt, it's okay. I've got this."

And I roll up my sleeves in anticipation as Karofsky steps closer, like, _way too close_ sort of 'closer,' but I refuse to back down. This was my house for years, since Burt and my mom ended up unable to get a bigger house due to the costs of Dalton for Kurt, but none of us minded. And since this was my house, I feel like I don't have to take any shit from someone like Karofsky. Besides, I'm still taller than him. I pretty much always have been, and probably always will be.

I scowl at him, and he glares right back. Then he's touching _me,_ and I'm two twitching fingers way from socking him one in the gut. "Don't you _dare_ act like you know everything, Hudson," he threatens me, and I'm about to lash out when my mother suddenly enters the room.

"Boys, you shouldn't be fighting like this –" Mom attempts, but I instantly cut her off.

"Stay out of this, Mom! This is between me and _him_," I growl. I swerve and smack Karofsky's hand away, causing Mom and Rachel to gasp and squeak respectively. I then shove Karofsky backward, noting that there's something boiling beneath the surface of the meathead's skin. I yell at him, "You don't deserve Kurt, you asshole! How _dare_ you try to trick him with your little 'nice' act? I can see right through it! You're just as much of a rotten bastard as you were before. So you're gay now? Well big _whoopdee friggin' doo_! That doesn't change a _thing!_ I bet you don't even love Kurt, do you? All you have probably ever wanted to do is get in his pants, quick and dirty, just to satisfy some sick fetish –" I snarl, but soon I'm being interrupted by a loud roar.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, HUDSON!" Karofsky shouts, rushing forward and tackling me to the ground.

I get one look at Kurt's face before I go down, and all I see is sheer terror, his hand raised to his lips. He jerks forward just as I crash to the ground; I see his feet move. Kurt is hovering just behind where Karofsky has me pinned, and I can tell he wants to separate us, except he doesn't quite know how. He was a kicker for football for all of one game, but he was never a wrestler. He doesn't know a thing about prying someone off of someone else, and while Kurt has a strong, lean body from dancing so much, he's not nearly brawny enough to accomplish his goal of dividing us anyway, and both Karofsky and I know it.

Karofsky is yelling in my face, his own a little pink with anger, and I can feel his spit flying as he forms the words, "You know fucking NOTHING. Where were you all these years, huh? Safe and sound here in Lima, that's where! I've busted my ass to change who I was, become who I am most of the time, and to make a living for myself. What you're implying, what you're _saying – _It's fucking BULLSHIT. I would _never_ – and you can quote me on this, Hudson – _harm Kurt intentionally._ I _do_ happen to love him, and you have no damn place to accuse otherwise!"

Without warning, he shoves me into the floor beneath me, hard, and I'm left with a reeling head due to lack of oxygen as I struggle to locate and re-inflate my lungs. I wheeze and gasp like a dying fish, and I just barely catch the sight of Karofsky's huge fist rearing back, about to knock me out. I squeeze my eyes closed helplessly, prepared for the impact.

Thankfully, it never comes, because Dad storms in, immediately accessing the situation and demanding, "What the FUCK is going ON here?"

My hero.

I'm helped to my feet by Burt, and then I'm slowly regaining my breath, about to launch into what Karofsky must be plotting and maybe even trying to convince Burt to see things my way, since he doesn't fully know, not really, the sorts of things that went on in high school. He got Karofsky expelled for a while, sure, and he tackled him in the hallway that one time, but… and then why… Doesn't he know? Doesn't he feel the way I do? I mean, how far does his trust extend toward Kurt that he seems so okay with Kurt's bully here, now, in his house, dating his son?

It infuriates me.

I open my mouth to speak, but Karofsky has the balls to beat me to the punch. "He was saying a shitload of lies about Kurt and I. I set him straight."

I want to roar, 'Bullshit! Like hell I was!' but Rachel's hand is on my shoulder and her big brown eyes are batting at me, and I can't very well resist softening a little bit, trying to see the logic she thinks I'm blind to.

I glance over, and something clenches inside of me when Karofsky steps over to poor stunned Kurt, and it's the weirdest thing, because he seems to confirm his words by whispering something to Kurt before running a thumb over Kurt's eyes to wipe the tears I hadn't even realized were there until Karofsky pulls back his hand and his fingers are wet. Kurt shakes his head, his body trembling slightly, and then I hear Kurt say, "That… was awful. I felt so torn, Dave. I wanted to – but I'm not as strong as either of you – and Finn's my _brother_ –"

And I'm a little touched, but still furious with Karofsky, even as he says in reply, "Shh, I know. I know, babe," as if he really cares, and I just feel _sick to my stomach._ It gets worse when Karofsky pulls Kurt into his arms, and Kurt willingly leans against the guy, almost _cuddling_ him, and my face falls along with my jaw, my lips parting.

How? How did this happen? The last thing I remember is Kurt being terrified and constantly hiding the bruises on the sensitive skin of his arms, back, and sides, from all of the locker-shoving and shoulder-knocking. The last thing I remember is Karofsky calling Kurt 'homo' and 'fag' or 'faggot,' and even things like 'fancy' and 'fairy' and 'lady face,' the latter taking after Sue Sylvester.

And yet there's this, now? What seems to be loving comfort and heartfelt care? Since when? When did Karofsky fall in love with Kurt and start acting this way towards him, and how come I didn't know? How come I wasn't in the loop about this… this… extreme one-eighty of events?

And how come Kurt is so fine with it? Was there a slow-building bond between them that I missed?

…I suddenly feel tired and lost, and by looking into Kurt's eyes as he tells all of us in the silence (save for Rachel's and our baby's crying), "Don't you guys see? It's okay… Dave's okay, and the rest of you need to be okay, too."

Sighing, I look off to the side at nothing in particular. I don't want to let Kurt down. Maybe I was wrong, thinking sinisterly when things aren't that way, but can you blame me? I mean, what was I to expect? So, with a hint of disinclination, I sigh and rub my shoulder while telling them both, "I… owe the two of you an apology. I'm sorry I verbally attacked you like that. I should have gotten my facts straight first."

I stiffen, my face tightening when Karofsky takes a step forward again, smiling some creepy-ass smile at me. "Yeah, you should've. But…" His smile fades. "I'm sorry too, man. We're adults, but we're still acting like teenagers, solving problems with violence. I initiated it, and I'm sorry."

I wave it away, trying to force down all of the hatred and fury and lingering shock and guilt that I'm feeling. I wave it away, my hands sore from being in unconscious fists for so long. "You're right. Let's… just pretend this didn't happen, and have dinner."

But I don't want to forgive and forget. I want another throw-down, and I want to _win_ this time, but my wife and child are upset, and my stepbrother I care about so much looks wounded, and even my parents are looking down at me like I did something wrong for reacting violently. So I keep my feelings to myself, mumbling the vaguest of responses toward Karofsky (I refuse to call him Dave like everybody else) over dinner, and play it all off like everything is relatively comfortable and pleasant. If only for Kurt's sake, since he _does_ seem to love Karofsky, maybe even as much as Rachel loves me.

I don't know.

I just keep acting like everything's okay and I accept Kurt's relationship with his bully when really I'm on the lookout for any slip-ups on Karofsky's part, ready to intervene and protect Kurt if I have to.

Nothing happens throughout the remainder of their visit, so I shrug and let it go for now.

Because if Karofsky proves himself – if he turns out to be exactly the sort of guy he described himself as, especially concerning my stepbrother – then I think I can be all right with this. Eventually.

But I'm a bit of a grudge-holder (just ask Rachel and refer to the pre- and majority of the Christmas of 2010), so we'll see.

.o0o.

"Man, I don't know why I acted so stupid last year. I'm sorry. After gettin' to know who you are now and how you got to this point, you're really not a bad guy at all, Dave, I had you pegged all wrong from the start all because of high school. And let's face it; most of us rarely are who we were in high school," I say with a laugh.

Dave chuckles in return, one of his arms casually draped over Kurt's shoulders. Kurt is practically glowing, because he likes seeing Dave and I get along. Also, he has Christa in his lap, and he always smiles softly like that when he holds her.

"Unkie Kurf is happy?" Christa babbles, still only knowing a few words since she started talking when she was pretty young, at nine months old. She's about twenty-three months old now, and she can form choppy sentences when she wants to. She's such a quick learner, and Rachel always attributes this to her own genes.

Kurt smiles broader, tickling her a little. "Yes, Uncle Kurt is _very_ happy. Life is lovely."

"Life… lover-lee," Christa repeats, her mouth trying to match Kurt's. She sneezes, and Kurt dabs her nose with a napkin with such tender care that I wonder if he's ever going to adopt. He's so good at being fatherly.

"Oh!" Rachel says, raising a finger in the air, "I just remembered! Sam and Quinn finally sent out their wedding invites. Did you two get one?"

Kurt nods. "We did, actually. It arrived the day before we left to come visit all of you." He tilts his head, idly bouncing Christa in his lap, making her giggle and clap her chubby little hands. "And if it weren't for our work, we'd move back. At least, Dave agrees with me every time I say how much I miss all of the people who weren't fortunate enough to escape the sucking hole that is Lima, Ohio," he jokes, resting Christa against his chest now while she plays with his hair. He doesn't even seem irritated with his perfectly styled hair getting mussed whenever his niece does it.

Rachel laughs quietly. "Yes, you two should move back. When you can, of course. There's work around here, too, you know. And besides, we keep missing you. You're away for too long, and Chicago is so very far away…"

I nod my head in firm agreement, and without thinking about it, I snake my hand behind my wife's back to rest my hand on her hip. She doesn't so much as blink; she's used to it by now.

Christa leans over and tugs on Dave's ear, making him wince. "Hold me," she mumbles. "Want Unkie Davey hold me!"

And normally Dave detests the nickname 'Davey,' but it's funny, because when it comes to my daughter, he can't insist otherwise, and he even seems not to mind as much because she's so damn adorable. Rachel and I know how to mix genes, apparently. Christa melts everyone's hearts with her dark auburn hair (more brown than red, but there's a sheen of natural red highlights whenever the sun hits her lightly curly hair) and sparkling blue eyes (a trait passed down from Rachel's birth father, we found out).

Dave takes Christa in her arms. "Oh, someone's getting big," he comments lightheartedly. "You're going to be a strong girl when you're older, Christa. Just like your willful mommy." And he sends my wife a teasing wink before laughing. Christa laughs along with him, and proceeds to climb on him. "Wait, Christa! What are you doing?"

"Mow-tin!" she says, and I chuckle to myself knowing that she means she's climbing poor Dave like a mountain. She does that to her grandpa, and me, too. For some reason, tall or broad-shouldered men equal mountains to scale in Christa's small mind. It's so cute.

"Christa, sweetie, come to Daddy," I say, reaching across the table for her. "I'm sorry, Dave. She seems to like being in high places. It scares the shit out of Rachel and I."

Dave laughs. "No, it's okay. I got this. I know how kids are. I grew up with a lot of younger cousins I had to look after. You guys saw me as a jerk at school, but I was always nice to kids." He lifts up Christa with ease and turns her around to face us before placing her on his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping his hair and her legs dangling over his collarbones.

She giggles insanely, shouting, "I'm onna mow-tin, I'm onna mow-tin!"

"Shh, Christa! Not so loud, sweetie! We're in public."

"Oh, it's fine," Kurt assures, laughing and glancing up at his niece. "I don't think any of the other Breadstix customers mind, since she's just too cute. Aren't you, Christa? You're just the cutest thing ever."

"I'm tha coot-est," she replies smugly.

Kurt laughs. "And modest, too."

I smile, truly content. Rachel leans her head on me, also admiring the couple across from us and appreciating how they interact with our child. I raise my hand to grip her shoulder, rubbing it over her airy pink shrug with my thumb.

"Kurt," Rachel says, suddenly lifting her head from my shoulder. I lower my hand, and she poses, "How long have you and Dave been together now?"

My stepbrother frowns, thinking. "I want to say about two years, but I know it might be a month or so more or less than that. I don't know. It feels like longer."

Dave is a quiet. Rachel prods, "Well, do you think you two might… I mean, you're living together already, so I wondered if and when you two would…"

Kurt looks a teensy bit startled, and extremely embarrassed. It makes me smile. He asks with a dry voice, having to pause to lick his lips, "You mean… get a domestic partnership or… married?" he murmurs, and beside him, Dave turns to stone under my daughter's hands.

"Unkie Davey? You no laugh no mores?" Christa murmurs, puzzled. She pokes his ear, and he doesn't react much. "Not happy?"

"Well…" Kurt breathes, and I catch Rachel leaning in to listen carefully to him. "We've talked about it once, but… it got us into a fight. I would like to, but Dave argues that we don't need something like that to finalize our relationship, and besides, it doesn't work the same for gays. I disagreed, even bringing up your parents, Rachel, but…"

Dave finally speaks up, talking while he removes Christa from his shoulders and passes her across the table to her mother. "I already feel completely devoted to Kurt. I don't want anybody else. But I think it's stupid that we'd have to go through the law that still seems to hate us so much to prove it."

Kurt nods sadly. "…And that's where the fight ended. I couldn't argue with that, because he's right. It's still not accepted in every state, and a few still refuse to recognize gay marriage, and one or two refuse even the legal partnerships." He shakes his head, clearly unsure. "The idea sounds nice, but now I agree with Dave. It's just too complicated and might mess up our relationship."

I show my sympathy with a nod. "That makes sense."

Rachel sighs, clearly disappointed. "I guess so." She rocks Christa, who suddenly looks tired. "It seems like such a shame. You two already act like it, in the sweet, non-bickering sense, and just look like a perfect family when you both watch over Christa."

Kurt blushes, and Dave seems to do the same, his ears burning. I almost want to tease them, but I hold my tongue. I'm brought into the conversation, finally, when my wife asks me what I think about all this.

"Um…" I stutter. "Well… I'm not really the person to ask; I don't mind either way. Togetherness is togetherness, right? That's how Artie and Brittany feel, and they're doing fine. Some people think it's wrong to shack up with someone without marrying them, but I'm not so sure. I wanted to marry Rachel, and I knew it felt right, and I knew it would be better to have a child and raise it with married parents. But when it comes to you guys? I say just go with what you want, not what others expect of you."

Kurt grins at me, thankful and almost a little proud, and murmurs, "Thanks, Finn. I think I'll take that advice."

Dave simply nods.

And on that note, our food arrives, and the evening carries on as per usual. Apparently, Quinn requested Kurt to be one of the decorators for her wedding since he did so well with our parents'. I couldn't agree more.


End file.
